


all too well

by rain_at_dawn



Series: stars, scattered [14]
Category: SHINee
Genre: Childhood Friends, Getting Back Together, Light Angst, M/M, Past Relationship(s), non-celebrity AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:01:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22561423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_at_dawn/pseuds/rain_at_dawn
Summary: 'Cause it reminds you of innocence and it smells like meYou can't get rid of it'Cause you remember it all too well
Relationships: Kim Kibum | Key/Lee Jinki | Onew
Series: stars, scattered [14]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608877
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	all too well

**Author's Note:**

> prompted by @chwesbian on Twitter
> 
> song inspo - all too well by dan campbell, originally by taylor swift

“Hello? It’s me.”

The voice needs no introduction. Jinki could have picked it out from a million: Kim Kibum, a figment of his past that’s conjured itself up out of the ether and into the empty night that forms Christmas Eve in the city.

“Hello? Do you remember…?”

Yes, Jinki remembers. He wonders how far removed he is from Kibum’s memory of him as part of their high school clique of losers.

“Yeah, I do. Kibum.”

“Jinki.” Kibum then clears his throat and instead, says, “Hyung.”

It’s a distinct backtrack from ‘yeongam’ or ‘ahjae’ or ‘ahjusshi’. Jinki wasn’t born yesterday; he’s an expert on Kibum’s feints after all these years. Instead of answering, he waits for him to continue. There’s silence on the line, interspersed with static and the faint echo of voices carrying over it. Kibum must be outdoors. It must be cold.

Eventually, Kibum gives in: “I was just passing through. Jonghyun gave me your number.”

By passing through, Jinki knows Kibum means he’s in-transit between flights. In a few hours, he might be jetting off to Honolulu or Sydney, someplace where you could still open your window to sunlight at this time of year.

“Why’d you call me?” Jinki quietly asks. It’s December, which would otherwise entail a packed schedule for Kibum, whether it was work or leisure. Jinki knew he didn’t fit in either sphere of Kibum’s life; not anymore.

“I…” He hears Kibum’s breath under the world outside, lined with snow. “… wanted to see you.”

Jinki doesn’t know how else to take this, except as what it is: a confession. All too well and too late.

“Jinki,” Kibum slips back into old habits like the past hadn’t hurt at all. “Please. There’s a café on Hongdae that serves instant coffee and cheap doughnuts. I’m paying.”

Kibum probably means from his wallet, but Jinki has to find out if there’s something else to be penitent for.

He grabs his jacket and slips on his boots. When he exits his apartment, he realizes he’s forgotten to hang up. The call’s still being tracked on his screen.

Seventeen minutes and twenty-three seconds, and Kibum still hasn’t hung up either.

* * *

If Jinki strains his memory hard enough, he’ll know for a fact that there are twelve scarves hung up in his closet, all gifted from Kibum on the twelve Christmases they’d spent together as they grew up. He delves into the crowd after leaving the subway in Hongdae, assuring himself that it’s full of old friends meeting up.

Still, he remembers the scarves, how they evolved from the cheap 5,000 won wool from the general market to the more expensive cashmere. Kibum’s tastes had evolved over time, even if Jinki’s hadn’t. Which of them had given up trying to keep pace with the other was a hatchet long since buried. But Jinki hadn’t forgotten and he’d wager that Kibum hadn’t either.

The shops are still open, catering to last-minute gift givers. He passes by a music store and recalls that the two of them were once lumped together as the only freshmen with as extensive a knowledge of the trot classics as their ancient Music teacher. ‘The Freaks’ was what Kibum had glumly dubbed themselves and Jinki had known it wasn’t supposed to be something to laugh over.

Come graduation, Kibum had taken that label and run with it, away from their small town, away from Jinki. In return, Jinki had taken their shared memories – the sleepovers, the hopeless crushes, the paper boats on rainy mornings and the toothpick sparring on dull afternoons in class – and shelved them. If there was ever anything that reminded him of Kibum’s dimples when he used to smile, it was brushed aside.

Still, it was almost Christmas and Jinki feels empty-handed. He’d gifted Kibum exactly one scarf in their senior year; a homely, slapdash thing he’d knitted himself. The shoppers passing by him bring him back to that very moment, which he doesn’t think he’ll ever live down.

One of the upmarket boutiques has a sign placed in its storefront window: _Sales From 50%-70%._

Jinki pauses. Even with the discounts, the wares are still far beyond his normal expenditure for gifts. He stops outside the boutique, takes a while to breathe and gain his bearings. Years ago, on a night like this, they’d brokered a toast to life over cups of eggnog in Kibum’s grandmother’s kitchen. It wasn’t much, but Kibum had kept plying Jinki with sugar cookies, begging him to stay the night because of the blizzard outside.

After probably not thinking it through enough, Jinki acts on the feeling which carries him into the boutique, towards a navy blue cashmere scarf that sits on top of the clearance pile. The phase only passes when his heart sits heavy with his newly wrapped gift in the shopping bag he carries with him on the way out.

* * *

The first thing Kibum remarks is “You haven’t changed.”

Jinki had managed to find the café he’d been referring to and found Kibum in it, bent over a cup of eggnog. For the first time in years, Kibum’s hair is black. It’s still styled well enough from what Jinki can make out from under the beanie he wears, which matches the rest of his outfit.

Except for the scarf around his neck. The same homely, slapdash thing Jinki had spent hours on during their senior year of high school.

Jinki doesn’t know what to make of this; he doesn’t know if he should laugh or even smile. He ends up pushing the shopping bag towards Kibum across from the table they’re seated at. Kibum takes one look at the designer label and blinks, keeps blinking.

Kibum’s wrong; everything has changed and yet nothing has, at least between them. Jinki thinks he knows exactly how to respond.

He reaches out and lays his hand in the middle of the table, palm out and fingers stretched towards Kibum.

Three seconds later, Kibum silently takes it. 


End file.
